This morning felt different, as if it were imbued with a special kind of magic. I remember Carrie waxing poetic about the 'magic awakening' and the 'old earth spirit knitting together all that is good.' It always sounded like something she'd read in one of her many books.
I used to roll my eyes whenever she lectured Lizzy and me on the virtues of rising early. But today, I finally grasped what she meant. There was an undeniable joy in greeting the day at dawn, a profound sweetness that filled me as I stretched in the soft morning light.
The anticipation for the day pulsed through me, a silent promise of new beginnings and untold stories.
As I lay there, a dreamy sigh escaped my lips, the memories of yesterday cascading through my mind like a tender slideshow. It was hard to believe it all really happened. My friends were right; it had been too long since I'd last dated.
The moment we stepped into the house yesterday, they bombarded me with questions. I had no choice but to divulge every detail—my unexpected venture out of my comfort zone and my interactions with Nick.
I recounted everything, from our morning conversation to the unexpected visit to his house. I spared no detail; my excitement was palpable with each word. By the end, Carrie and Lizzy looked at me as if I'd sprouted wings.
"What? You don't believe me?" I challenged when they remained silent.
Lizzy hopped off the counter, arms folded, a skeptical look etched on her face. "So, you're saying he called you beautiful this morning?" she probed.
"Yes," I affirmed.
"And you jumped on him because of a gecko?" Carrie interjected, her legs still draped over the couch's armrest.
"Yes," I admitted, my cheeks warming at the memory.
"You mean, like, arms around his neck, legs around his waist, his hands on your bum?" Carrie's vivid description sent a blush across my face.
"Huh, huh," I stammered, my palms growing clammy under their intense scrutiny.
"And you bit him?" The memory made me blush even deeper. That bite was an innocent reflex, but what message did it send to Nick? Friends don't just bite each other!
"Oh, my baby has grown," Carrie exclaimed, leaping from the couch to envelop me in a tight embrace.
"What baby? She's still got that mischievous streak. So, how does it feel to be back in the dating game, huh?" Lizzy teased, pinching my cheeks and cooing as if I were a toddler.
"Hey, cut it out! What's with the pinching? I'm not a child," I protested, trying to fend off their playful gestures.
"We know you're not. We're just thrilled for you," Carrie said, her voice warm with affection as she settled back onto the couch.
"Really, who could have predicted such a turn of events? Just yesterday, you were hesitant to even speak to him, and today, you practically leaped into his arms," Lizzy said, her laughter echoing through the room. I winced at her exaggeration. I didn't leap at him, I protested silently, my lips curving into a reluctant pout.
"You're both blowing this way out of proportion. Nothing was intentional, and there's absolutely nothing brewing between us," I declared, retreating to the sanctuary of my bedroom to slip into my cozy blue pajamas adorned with the cheerful image of Bluey the cartoon.
From the living room, Carrie's voice followed, "Then how would you describe what happened?"
That was the question, wasn't it? Why did I instinctively choose him over the safety of a chair? I pondered this as I changed into my pajamas.
"It was just a reflex," I insisted upon returning, only to be met with the skeptical eyes of my friends. Their disbelief was palpable, mirroring my own incredulity at my actions.
During my brief absence, Carrie and Lizzy had also changed into their nightwear, each reflecting their personalities: Carrie in her Princess Ariel pajamas and Lizzy in Barbie-themed attire.
Our three-bedroom apartment was our shared haven, spacious and inviting, with a cozy living room, kitchen, and diner. Though we each had our own space, we often found ourselves congregating in one room or camping out in the living room for impromptu sleepovers.
"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night," Lizzy quipped, reaching for the remote.
"But really, how did it feel to be so close to him?" Lizzy probed, her curiosity shining in her eyes.
"And what was it like, being wrapped in his arms?" Carrie added, mimicking an embrace with a playful flourish.
How did it feel? At the moment, I was too stunned to process it, but now, with a clear mind, the recollection sent waves of warmth across my cheeks, coaxing an involuntary giggle from my lips.
My friends leaned in, eager for more details, and then... "It was nothing, just a normal reaction," I said with a casual shrug, reaching for my laptop as a diversion, knowing very well how they wanted to murder me now.
I bit my lip to stifle the bubbling laughter, feeling a sense of mischief take hold.
"Uh-huh, now she's playing coy..."
A squeal of delight escaped me as I reminisced, my hands instinctively cupping my flushed cheeks.
"Is it normal to feel this elated, this eager for the day to unfold?" I mused to myself, a silly grin spreading across my face as I returned back to the present.
The sudden mental image of Nick carrying me made my cheeks burn. "Get a grip, Mandy," I muttered, shaking my head as if to dislodge the lingering thoughts.
Glancing at the clock, my eyes widened in disbelief.
4:50 a.m.
Why was I awake at this ungodly hour? I blinked repeatedly, hoping my sleep-addled brain was playing tricks on me, but the time remained unchanged.
"This is ridiculous," I grumbled, grabbing my phone for confirmation. The night stretched on, contradicting the short nights characteristic of summer.
With a weary sigh, I resigned myself to the wakefulness and opened my laptop. If sleep eluded me, I might as well be productive and dive into my assignment on the silent film era.
I was immediately engrossed by the era's unique ability to transcend language barriers without the need for interpreters, captions, or elaborate sound systems. Audiences, regardless of hearing ability, could immerse themselves in the storytelling, undisturbed in the shared darkness of the theater.
Equally impressive was the absence of stunt doubles. Actors of the silent era were true daredevils, fully embodying their roles without taking undue credit. Their commitment to authenticity was something I deeply admired—an actor should experience every facet of their character's journey.
My research was interrupted by a noise from outside my room. Curious, I set my laptop aside and approached the door. Opening it revealed Carrie, already up and dressed in her glittering grey sports attire, her braids neatly tied back as she stretched in preparation for an early workout.
"I swear I'm not on anything or sleep-deprived enough to start seeing things," Carrie said with a weary tone as she caught sight of me. I couldn't help but smile at her remark, fully grasping the surprise behind it.
"Hi," I whispered back, just loud enough for her to hear.
"You're actually here," she said, her expression a mix of amusement and disbelief as I stepped out of my room.
"As real as it gets," I replied, my smile widening with pride.
"Why are you up at this hour?" she asked, her eyes wide as if she were seeing an apparition.
"Good morning to you too," I retorted playfully. "Can't a girl enjoy the early hours without an agenda? I just wanted to see if there's any truth to that 'morning magic' you rave about," I lied, shrugging nonchalantly.
Carrie eyed me skeptically. "Hmm, this wouldn't have anything to do with the guy next door, would it? You're not up early to join me for a jog and 'accidentally' bump into him, right?"
The thought hadn't crossed my mind, but now that she mentioned it, it seemed like a perfect coincidence. Nick did enjoy his morning runs, as I had noticed yesterday. Why not leave it to fate? I had to admit, Carrie was onto something.
"But you're not that desperate, are you?" Her words halted my daydreaming.
"Desperate? Me? Please, I'm not the one who chases after men—they chase after me," I blurted out, avoiding Carrie's gaze. The idea of being seen as desperate was absurd. Wanting to see him was hardly an act of despair.
"And what's wrong with joining you for a jog? I gave up my precious sleep to keep you company, and you accuse me of stalking? Are men really that scarce?" I huffed, arms crossed in mock indignation.
"Statistically, yes, there is a shortage of men. Many are gay," Carrie replied, analyzing my outburst with her usual mathematical precision. I shot her a glare, but she just smiled sheepishly. Trust Carrie, the fashionista and math whiz, to bring statistics into it.
"Are you planning to run in your pajamas?" she inquired, gesturing at my attire. Only then did I realize I hadn't changed. It's not like I had planned to go jogging today.
"Just a sec," I said, darting back into my room.
Why did choosing an outfit for a jog feel as nerve-wracking as getting ready for a date? Each option seemed either too loose, too tight, too revealing, or too dull.
"I need a wardrobe update," I muttered, surveying the rejected pile of activewear on my bed.
"If you take one more second, I'm leaving without you!" Carrie's voice, tinged with impatience, spurred me into action.
I grabbed the first set of clothes I touched—black tights, a grey sports bra, and a matching running jacket. It was my first run, and I wanted to be prepared for the chilly morning air. After a quick brush of my teeth and a splash of water on my face, I was ready. Bad breath was the last thing I needed if I ran into Nick.
"I'm leaving now!" Carrie called out, and I bolted to the living room just as the door began to open.
"Here!" I gasped, more from the rush than exertion.
"Let's hit the road," she said, and we were off. As we started jogging, I couldn't help but steal a glance at Nick's house, wondering if destiny might indeed play a hand today.
As we hit the sidewalk, just minutes from our home, Carrie picked up the pace. For someone who rarely runs, it was a challenge to match her stride.
Initially, my breaths were erratic and shallow, but gradually, I found my rhythm. The run became enjoyable, the crisp air brushing against my skin, the neighborhood unfolding in a display of early morning splendor. I marveled at how I had overlooked the beauty of this place.
A gentle breeze whispered through the trees, coaxing leaves to dance their way to the earth. The path was a simple trail of dirt and stone, adorned with flowers bathed in dew, glowing like little suns.
I couldn't help but smile, feeling liberated and invigorated. Now I understood Carrie's devotion to her morning ritual. Indeed, a run at dawn has the power to transform your entire day.
Yet, amidst the serenity, I was utterly unprepared for the sight that awaited me. There he was—the man who had invaded my dreams, the one who stirred the child within me, the very reason I found myself here at this hour. The man I was so eager to encounter.
He was a vision, just as he had been the first time we met. Clad in grey pants and a black tank top, his muscles were on full display, a feast for my eyes. The sweat that traced his form spoke of the miles he had already conquered.
His approach was rhythmic, his arms flexing with each stride. Our eyes met, and my heart skipped a beat. Then, quite literally, I stumbled—over my own feet, tumbling face-first onto the pavement before the object of my affections.
Internally, I pleaded for the ground to swallow me whole or even faint.